A Year in the Life
by Living in America
Summary: Follows "Dying in America" - chronicling the year after RENT, one chapter per year. Maureen and Joanne move on; Collins learns to cope; and Mark and Roger find themselves stuck in an endless circle of grief and anger. Can they move on after Mimi and Angel, or will life overcome them both? PostRENT
1. January

January is the hardest month of the year for Mark; life seems too slow and stunted. How can you go and film a city when it barely has time to wake up before it falls once again beneath the cold hard shell of night? New York in January is so cold, Mark's fingers freeze while he tries to hold the camera and the snow that falls and melts on everything makes him damp and leaves a lasting chill when he returns to the apartment. This is definitely a problem because of the lack of heat in the loft; his room is so cold at night there is no chance of overcoming the chill.

Roger is still under the umbrella of Mimi's death; things like being cold don't really affect him, but mentions of the smallest (and strangest) things in conversation will send him back to his room sometimes for days on end. It's only been three weeks; Mark doesn't blame his best friend for being so odd, but it is really starting to add to the overall air of depression this January. A week ago Collins stopped by with the very obvious goal of cheering Mark and Roger up, and it had really worked that night; the undeniable warmth of alcohol in his veins had Mark feeling better then he had since Christmas Eve last year. Unfortunately that had worn off quickly the next morning, with a headache settling in its place.

Collins really wasn't much better off then the rest of them, although he'd been able to get food and other supplies easily using his crazily rewired ATM. While he looked physically healthy and his clothes were actually warm and in good shape (as were Mark and Roger's, now that Collins had the flow), his sometimes not-so-subtle moodiness proved that he was hurting just as bad as Roger over the loss of Mimi and Angel.

The only people in their group of friends who were starting to get back on track were Maureen and Joanne, perhaps because they had one another. At Mimi's funeral they had been just as subdued and grief stricken as Collins, Mark and Roger, but only a week after Maureen had called Mark up out of the blue at 10 am (10 am?! really?! who had the strength or drive to do anything so early?) and asked if he wanted to go with her to check out the tent city that still occupied the lot next to the building that held the loft. When Mark had explained that he normally didn't get up till at least noon these days, and that he didn't really want to go anywhere but he might go film later, Maureen had sighed exaggeratedly and hung up on him. Mark had been glad; he was able to sleep for a few more hours before the afternoon sun through his window got too bright and he had to drag himself out of bed. Sleeping really was the easiest thing these days; he and Roger both went to bed before 11 most nights and slept until well past noon. When you were sleeping you didn't have to see other people or talk to them, so it was a good option.

While Joanne worked as a lawyer in corporate America, Maureen had become bored; her new mission was to help the people in the tent city that, in her mind at least, she herself had saved. (Mark wanted to set her straight on the fact that it had a lot to do with Benny and where he was now, but she was preoccupied with her own cause and he knew well enough to leave her alone.) Joanne wasn't too happy that Maureen was handing out food and blankets purchased exclusively with her salary, but all Maureen had to do was pout and Joanne let it slide. It wasn't that Joanne didn't want to help those who were down on their luck, but she wanted Maureen to find a job and put her time into both pursuits at the same time, making money while doing something useful. Either way, the tent city was thriving.

The welfare of the tent city was of course related to Benny. When Muffy (Alison, Mark reprimanded himself - too much time spent with Roger) had dragged Benny away from the future home of his beloved studio, his father-in-law expressed an intention to make Benny sell off the land he had once had intentions to build a studio on and Benny, in a sudden "fit of decency" as Collins put it, had made a decision himself to sell the land before his father-in-law had any say. One particularly chilly January morning Collins had bounded into the apartment, looking happier then he had in months. Roger was on the couch, Mark in the kitchen, and they both jumped a mile high when the door flew open. "Look at this!" he held the paper aloft with a huge grin. "I just got it in the mail!" Roger and Mark drew closer to view the document - the title to their building and the adjacent lot, and the paperwork that went with it. Roger gasped as he finished reading before Mark. "I don't believe it. Benny really had a heart after all, eh?" Mark got to the critical part of the paper and saw what had made Roger surprised and Collins so happy - the land and building were now the joint property of Roger Davis and Mark Cohen. Caught up in the happiness of his discovery Mark looked up with a huge smile on his face to meet Roger's eyes, and memories of the past few weeks flooded his mind again.

"Amazing" he said, subdued, and walked away to the window. He heard Roger and Collins follow him, and as they looked out together into the street from the big arched windows, he knew they were all thinking the same thing. If only Mimi and Angel were here to celebrate with them.


	2. February

The city was marginally warmer this time of year, but when Mark went out to film his fingers still became numb within ten minutes of removing his gloves. Snow fell intermittently, not enough to make things look pretty but enough to cause spin outs and fender benders on the roads. As a consequence of the weather and the mood in the loft, Mark and Roger's way of life had continued much the same through the end of January and beginning of February. The fact that they now owned their building and the tent city seemed to remove any need for action; there was no danger of being kicked out, no danger of the tent city being shut down, and therefore nothing to do.

Collins had decided to move into their building a few floors down, since Rent was free, and save a little cash. He showed up several times a week with food and other supplies, but he was the only visitor to the loft. Of course it was only a matter of time before Maureen became bored of traversing the city by herself.

One morning around 11:30 the phone rang. Mark, who had just woken up, dragged himself out of bed immediately. It had been two weeks since the phone rang, so he assumed that someone back home was ill or there was some other crisis. Unfortunately for him, it was just Maureen.

"Open up baby, it's time for you and Roger to get back on track!"

"Open... what? Sorry? Open up what?"

"The door honey, we're waiting!"

Mark went to the door, unlocked it, and slid it aside. There was Maureen and Joanne, both with their arms full of grocery bags.

"Joanne, what're you doing here? Don't you have to work?" She gave him a look like he had lost his mind.

"It's Saturday Mark. Are you really that out of it?"

"Oh." He let them in. "Roger's in bed. I'll get him." After about twenty minutes and what he was pretty sure was hastily turning into a black eye, he gave up. Roger would not be getting out of bed till he was good and ready. Returning to the main room of the loft, he meant to offer Maureen and Joanne to sit down but found them in the process of clearing away weeks of filth and trash that had been left in disarray across the floor of the loft.

"You don't have to do that!" He was mortified that his ex's girlfriend was seeing what a slob he was.

"Don't be ridiculous." Joanne said, no-nonsense as always. "You and Roger have been going through a lot, we don't judge you. It's just time that you cleaned up and got out a bit. It's going to be spring soon, that will help."

Mark went to the window and gazed out at the gray sky and the blackened piles of snow along the curbs of the street. Filthy taxis plowed through a film of snow that was quickly turning to water in the streets. "I don't really feel spring just around the corner, Joanne. All I want to do is go back to sleep"

"Mark, you of all people!" Maureen exclaimed from across the room. "Get up and DO something. Go film. Get out to eat somewhere. Go shopping even! If you did anything, you wouldn't be so tired all the time." Mark wasn't entirely sure about this approach to his problem, but he certainly didn't care to argue with Maureen. At this point, if he tried to walk down the street he was pretty sure he'd fall over before he made it one block.

His meager train of thought was cut off by the emergence of Roger from his room. Roger looked terrible. He was wearing an old, old pair of plaid pants that were a good six inches too short and a t-shirt that was more hole than fabric. His hair had grown out even more and was tangled in a nest-like fashion on his head, and his face was pale and more lined then usual. Roger seemed to have aged ten yeas in the space of two months. Mark was immediately thankful that Maureen and Joanne were both smart women who knew what to do. They didn't fawn over Roger, as Mark had tried to do in the weeks after Mimi's death. Joanne went to the kitchen and came back a few minutes later with breakfast for all four of them, and Maureen cleared a place for Roger to sit on the couch. As they ate the women made idle conversation, mostly with each other and occasionally with Mark. After about a half hour Maureen jumped up.

"Alright, we're cleaning up these dishes and then going!" Neither of them said a word to Roger the entire time, but right before they left first Joanne and then Maureen each gave him a hug.

"You can't stay in here forever, Roger" said Joanne quietly. And they left. The loft seemed a bit brighter after Maureen and Joanne had been there; maybe it was just cleaner. At any rate, Mark sat down on the newly cleared off couch, as far away from Roger as he could get. Roger, who seemed to have been in a trance-like state for most of the time since he'd awoke, finally looked around him.

"That was nice of them. Was I terrible company?" Mark smiled a little.

"Yeah, you were pretty nasty. You never said a word. Or even looked at them."

"I'm sorry."

"That's ok, I'm sure Maureen and Joanne understand..."

"No." Roger interrupted him and Mark looked over to find that Roger was actually looking at him - not talking to the air, as he had these past few weeks, but actually looking at Mark and talking to him. "I'm telling YOU I'm sorry, Mark. I've completely ignored you this past month or so." Mark wasn't sure what to say, so he made a feeble gesture with his hand as if to wave away the apology. There was silence for a few minutes.

"I'm just as much to blame" Mark said finally. "I've ignored you too."

"Look at us." Suddenly Roger was angry. "Sitting here, doing nothing, ignoring the fact that we have each other. We finally own this building, our problems with rent are finally done with, and all I can do is sit in my room and sleep. How useless is that?" Mark was lost for words. This was the most he'd heard Roger say since Mimi died. He said the only thing he could think of, did the only thing that was right.

"It's not your fault, it's not my fault, it's not anyone's fault. This stuff just happens" he whispered, then he slid over slowly until he was next to Roger. Roger turned to stare at him, then threw his arms around his friend. Mark held Roger in return, and felt Roger begin to shake as he finally let go and cried for Mimi, for Angel, and for himself. Finally, Mark hoped, a breakthrough had been made. Maybe March would not only bring more daylight, but brighter things for all of them.


	3. March

March was better, most definitely so. The problem was that Mark wanted everything to get better, right away, and it wouldn't. Change would have to happen slowly, over time. Things were better since Maureen and Joanne's visit a few weeks ago though. First off, Mark and Roger had actually begun to talk to one another again. As a result of this they had realized their mutual need to start going out of the loft again, and the day after their friend's visit, a freezing late February day, they had ventured out to the grocery store. Collins had been leaving cash on their kitchen table for five weeks now, and they took it and stocked up on food.

By the time they had walked the three blocks to the store and back, and unloaded their cache into the fridge and cupboards, they were exhausted. Again though Mark and Roger both insisted on trying to change, and instead of going to their respective beds (which seemed to literally be screaming their names) they had instead collapsed on the couch next to each other with two beers and a bag of chips.

Mark had startled awake again when it was dark - and cold. In a second he realized he was on the couch and he had fallen asleep next to Roger, who was shaking him.

"Mark... MARK."

"What's wrong?" Mark's first thought was that someone was trying to break in. Otherwise why wouldn't Roger just drag himself off to bed and let Mark keep sleeping right here? That was how they'd always done it when they dozed off like this. Whoever got up was smart, and the dumbass who slept all night in some really uncomfortable position was the one with the stiff neck for the next three days. In his haze of sleep Mark had forgotten about their visitors the day before and the completely unspoken pact between the two of them to try and act more like human beings.

"Nothing's wrong," Roger whispered. "Come on to bed so you don't hurt in the morning." Two strong arms were tugging him up, off the sofa and then - was he really being carried?! he was laid down in a very cold bed. He turned over, yawned, and went back to sleep immediately.

The next morning Mark wasn't cold or uncomfortable enough to startle awake - in fact he was so comfortable his eyes didn't want to open. Since when had his bed been this warm and nice in the mornings? Since when had his bed had arms to hold him the morning - WAIT. Now Mark startled awake, and tried to sit up but to no avail. An arm was around his waist, and when he turned to his left he found it belonged to Roger. Who was still asleep, which explained why his arm felt like dead weight. Mark relaxed, remembering the events of the last few days. If this was what change was like, this was nice. Just then Roger woke up.

"Morning" said Mark, laying back down next to Roger. "Thanks for getting me up last night. I just wasn't... used to the gesture, or I wouldn't have questioned it."

"Didn't seem right to leave you out there, it was so cold. Then you wouldn't get up so I just picked you up and brought you here." Roger's words were barely discernible, issuing from his mouth which was jammed into the crook of the arm which wasn't holding Mark. As he finished speaking, he removed his arm and rolled over onto his back. Mark smiled.

"I appreciate it." He looked at the clock. "Only 8am! And I actually don't feel like going back to sleep, do you?"

"No, I slept really well. Better than - well - yeah." Roger's thought tapered off, but a second later he looked over at Mark and smiled. "Let's get up!"

The days after that progressed much more quickly and harmoniously then they had in a long time. In early March Daylight Savings Time began and the extra light at night helped things along immensely. The cold and snow did not cooperate though - by the fourteenth of the month the temperatures were still in the single digits, keeping Mark from his camera.

His and Roger's progress had continued on at a slow and steady pace in spite of the weather though. When Collins came by for his weekly visit, he found Mark and Roger cleaning the floor in the main room, which was sticky with spilled beer and food and grimy from a winter's worth of dirty, salty boots and shoes tracking across it. The rest of the loft was astonishingly clutter and dust free. Their possessions were still old and battered, but when cleaned up a bit the loft had begun to resemble a home.

Collins went right about helping Mark and Roger with the floor. "Wow, you two have a lot of energy today!" Mark smiled.

"We've actually had energy most days this week. There are still some bad days, but we've actually been getting up in the morning, not the afternoon, since February!" Roger, of course, felt a need to add to this fact.

"Some days its very close to the afternoon. But those are the bad days." Smiles still did not come easily to Roger, but he had remained more thoughtful and attentive to the other human being that he shared a living space with. Things were getting better. When the floor was finished Collins looked for the couch, ready to collapse onto it.

"Where's the couch? You two losers didn't get rid of it, did you?" Roger flashed Collins the finger from the other side of the room, which Mark believed was at least mostly in jest, while Mark answered the question.

"It's in my ol- my room. Let's go get it." They hadn't exactly told their friends that they had been sharing the bed in Roger's room for the past three weeks. And they weren't planning to either, seeking to avoid any of the questions that would come with it. Mark was sure that no one would really care, but there were things he definitely still didn't have energy for, and one of them was defending the fact that he spent every night in bed with his best friend.

He didn't think there would be a problem with having Collins help him move the couch - his room had stayed almost exactly the same since he'd left it permanently a few weeks ago. Sure, his clothes for the most part were now in Roger's room, but Collins wouldn't be snooping through the dresser - he hoped. Of course, Mark hadn't counted on Collin's penchant for snooping, or his way of paying attention to every little detail. As soon as they entered the room he was looking around.

"No furniture in Roger's room then?" he asked, his eyes roving over the stuff from the living room that Roger and Mark and brought into the bedroom.

"No, my room was easier to get things into." Mark tried to blow him off, but knew the seed had been planted. They each took an end of the couch and pushed it through the doorway and into the main room. Roger was at the stove, making something for dinner. Mark looked at Collins and could see the big man eyeing the doorway to Roger's room. He was going to maneuver his way in there and check things out, Mark just knew it. He swiftly moved to Roger's door and closed it, yelling at Roger as he did so

"I told you not to leave this open, there's a cold draft that comes out of your room man!" The inevitable hand with middle finger raised was shown from the kitchen area; then, as what Mark had said sank in, Roger turned around.

"What about a cold draft? That's a load of crap man..." he trailed off when he saw Mark with his back to the door of Roger's room, and Collins looming in front of him with a huge, catlike grin on his face.

"Oh I knew it! The clean house, the groceries, the better attitudes... you two are so obvious! But really, I'm glad you're together, really glad." Roger's mouth dropped open.

"What?"

"He thinks we're gay." Mark rolled his eyes. "Listen, Collins, we'll explain..."

Collins was still grinning. "No need to explain, I'm ecstatic! What'd you think, I wouldn't approve? ME, of all people?"

It took five minutes for Mark to fill Roger in, and for the two of them to convince Collins they weren't gay.

"Okay, so you're both straight. That's cool. Can either of you tell me why you're sharing a bed then?"

Mark and Roger looked at each other. "I've done all the explaining. You take this one." Mark was tired of talking. He was right in thinking he didn't have the energy for this. His roommate sighed.

"It just started one night. We were both cold, and lonely, and we fell asleep on the couch next to each other. I woke up and I remember it was like I was thinking clearly for the first time in a long time. I realized that Mark is the best friend I have, and I was ignoring him for over two months. We were both depressed, and sad, and... it just seemed like the right thing. And it obviously was, 'cause we're both sleeping way better and we both feel way better. That's really all there was to it. We're not gay, it's not all that complicated - we're just two friends, helping each other out."

Collins had tears in his eyes. "That's the most I've heard you talk since December Roger. I'm glad you can help each other out."

The three friends spent the rest of the day together, eating the dinner that Roger cooked and talking and drinking. At the end of the night, when Collins left to go back downstairs, Mark stopped him at the door.

"Collins, how did you know so quick that we were both sleeping in Roger's room?" Collin's cat grin returned.

"You made the bed and thought that would hide it didn't you? There's only one pillow on the bed in your room, there was two on Roger's. And your goof ass scarf is on the bedside table."

Roger slammed the door; he and Mark faced each other and they listened to Collins chuckle all the way down three flights of stairs till he reached his place. Then the two friends laughed harder then they had in...well, in a long while.

Yes, March was turning out much better then February.


	4. April

April begins with a taste of summer - seventy degree temperatures and almost three days of pure blue sky. Mark and Roger take advantage of the change in the weather by going out for walks each day. The sights in Alphabet City are nothing to look twice at, but at least the air is fresh and the sun is out. Everything seems to be moving along at a nice pace; Mark has been filming again and sometimes he even hears Roger playing guitar in their - his - room. Life is not sunshine and rainbows, but it's pretty decent.

And then things fall apart.

One day about two weeks into April, when temperatures have fallen again and cold rain washes the outside windows of the loft, blown there by a chilly spring wind, Roger bursts into the loft while Mark is cooking dinner. His stony expression and drenched appearance shock Mark, who follows him to their room. ROGER'S room damn it. Mark stands in the doorway and watches as Roger changes his jeans out for a pair of old boxers, draws the curtains in the room, and crawls into the bed.

"What's going on Roger?"

"Nothing. Just leave me alone."

When Roger is like this, there's nothing to be done. Mark knows that from the days directly after Mimi's death. As he leaves Roger's doorway and walks back to the kitchen, there's a knock at the door. When he opens it Collins pulls him out to the hallway. "Did Roger come home yet?"

"Yeah" Mark replies, nonplussed. "Do you know something about what's wrong?"

Collins looks grave and sad in the dusty, pale light that comes from the dirty windows in the hallway of the building. "We went for something to eat and he saw a friend of Mimi's there. This girl didn't know that Mimi was gone, and when Roger told her, she asked what happened. When he told her Mimi had AIDS, the girl accused him of giving it to her. It wasn't her fault - she'd just been told her friend died, and she was upset. But he stormed out of the bar and I hoped he'd come back here eventually."

"He's here, and he's acting like he was back in January" said Mark. "I'm not sure what to do."

"Let him be for a while Mark. He needs time I think. You know how Roger is - who knows what crazy thoughts he's thinking? Give him time."

Collins said goodnight and went back downstairs. Mark was left alone to wonder how Collins dealt with his own life, after losing Angel. Roger was so messed up, but Collins seemed to be reasonably functional. His thought process was interrupted by Roger, who left his room to use the bathroom.

That night was rather quiet. Mark moved back to his room, which was cold and empty feeling after so many weeks of not being used. He barely slept at all that night, and wondered if Roger was laying awake in his room across the loft. When he rose the next morning he found Roger's room empty. Forcing himself not to panic, Mark spent the day filming and when he returned at 6pm Roger was back in his room. This odd behavior continued for several days, until Mark decided he had a fair idea of where Roger was and that he'd had enough time to beat himself up over the bar encounter.

The next day Mark rose and left the loft at 11am, leaving his camera behind. He made his way to the public cemetery several blocks from their building and sure enough, found Roger sitting near Mimi's grave. Following his gut, Mark sat down next to his friend.

"You haven't been sleeping with me."

Never in a million years would Mark have thought Roger would be the one to initiate a conversation.

"You've been in your room with the curtains drawn, or out of the house. Why would I think you'd welcome me in there with you?"

Roger sighs and looks around. "It's not you I have a problem with, it's me."

Mark laughs out loud and Roger stares at him. "It's like we're having a breakup talk. 'It's not you, it's me' - it just hit me as funny."

Then he gets serious and faces Roger, sitting down on the grass in front of him. "Collins told me what happened. What's going on in your head?"

Roger looks away across the tombstones. "When she accused me of getting Mimi sick, it just drove something home. I could have been the one who got her sick. I can never be with someone who isn't... like me." He spits the last two words as if he's disgusted with himself. "I felt dirty, and afraid, and like I was going to be alone forever. Which is why I wouldn't have minded you being around. But I guess I couldn't bring myself to speak to you."

Mark doesn't know what to say. He feels so bad about Roger's trouble, and there's absolutely nothing he can do to make it better.

"You know, some of what you said definitely isn't true."

Roger looks at him with empty eyes. Empty of emotion, of feeling. "What part?"

"You will never be alone forever. And all you have to do is speak to me, like you said. I know where you're going with this, but I won't let you convince yourself that your life is ruined and you're worth nothing. You have now, Roger. You have today, and tomorrow, and probably at least a few days after that, even though you're never sure with the nature of your sickness. But you have to use the time you have, and not cut it short. If you can't figure that out, then you certainly can't figure out to come to me when you feel alone."

Mark gets up and walks away, feeling sorry and disgusted with his friend. He stops to get food and Roger's medicine on the way home, and then spends the day feeling annoyed and trying to separate his clothes from Roger's. By the end of the day he's gotten most of his things back in his room; he cooks a solitary dinner and goes to bed early.

Around 8 pm he hears a key turn in the door and assumes Roger is home. He turns over to try once more to sleep and is startled half to death a few minutes later when he hears the door open. He can't see in the dark but a minute later the bed behind him moves down and an arm goes around his waist. He hears Roger laughing quietly at his obvious terror as he relaxes into the familiar arm. "Who'd you think I was, the boogy man?"

Mark smiles a huge smile in the dark and snuggles down into bed. Suddenly he's so tired he can barely keep his eyes open. "Welcome home Roger."

He doesn't expect Roger to answer but is pleasantly surprised as a sleepy voice answers him quietly.

"Thanks."


End file.
